Breaking the Bully

by Jessa Kane

“You scare me, all right. But I can’t seem to stop…wanting, either. Wanting you to look at me. Wanting you…period. It’s why I sit behind you in all your classes, Allie. You don’t know that?”

“What are you doing out here in this storm?” There’s a tight smile in his voice. Of course there is. We have company. He never reveals his monstrous nature in front of other people. “Did you come out here to retrieve the handyman?” I do a double take, noticing the strain forming around the corners of Moore’s mouth. “Handyman?” “Yes.” My father chuckles, coming forward to clap a hand down on Moore’s tense shoulder. “He’s here to repair a leak in the attic. Came highly recommended.” Moore can’t look at me now, his gaze cast over my shoulder. Hollow. A minute ago, we were equals. But my father’s words have called into focus one very important thing. With Moore’s hands on me, I’d forgotten that I’m very rich and he’s very poor. It just didn’t matter. To me, it still doesn’t. But the economic divide between us is broadening by the second. I’ve experienced this my whole life. People whispering when they pass me on the sidewalk in town. She lives in the big house on Perry Hill. They have no idea it’s a prison. “Why don’t you get to it?” My father suggests to Moore, his tone brittle. “Allie has to study. She’s going places, unlike some of us.”

As soon as we’re in the house, I run up the stairs to my room and lock the door, leaning back against it. Listening to Moore’s boots creak back and forth in the attic. More than anything, I want to go up there. Feel his hands on me again. Cherishing hands, instead of hateful ones. I ache for that. For him. But an hour later, Moore leaves and that’s when I face the reckoning. My father kicks in my door, splintering the lock, and I know it’s going to be worse than usual. “If I ever see you talking to that boy again, so help me God, I will strangle you unconscious.” His face is mottled red, spittle bursting from his lips. “I will whip you until you can’t stand up and then I’ll ruin him, too. I’ll make his life even harder in this town. You know I can do it. I can have him cast off that filthy land and no one will ever hire him again. Is that what you want?” “No,” I whisper.

I simply keep my head down and try not to show the bruises. On my body and my heart. I never could have predicted he would hate me for it.

Two years ago, I decided that if she was going to make my life hell by ignoring me after what we shared, then I could return the favor. So I do. I demand she acknowledge me by bullying her. That’s the only term for it. I’m her bully and I hate that—I fucking hate it—but so be it. It’s true what they say about misery loving company. Because I’m miserable without her and she’s coming with me.

“Too bad, Allie. I’ll scare every single one of those limp dicks off. You’re going to sit alone in your house on prom night crying into your designer sheets like a baby. And I’m going to laugh.” The only sign that she hears me at all is the quickening rise and fall of her shoulders. Even that small display that I’ve upset her is agonizing, floods me with self-loathing, but I can never stop. She ripped out my fucking heart and I can’t deal with the consequences of that alone. I can’t let her go. I’ll never let her go.

I don’t have a lot of money, most of the cash I earn as a handyman goes to food and renting my plot of land, but I’d give every last cent for her to turn and lock those aquamarine eyes on me, just one last time. Sometimes when I jerk off, all it takes is fantasizing about Allie looking at me, giving me her attention again, and I lose it. One stroke. Maybe two. Done.

I can’t breathe without having her close. And I can’t breathe with her close. It’s a strange condition, this obsession, but she’s an addiction I’m never giving up.

But I think if I actually got to touch her skin, my wall of bullshit would crumble. I don’t know how to fuck. In theory I do, but not in practice. Since seeing Allie for the first time freshman year, there’s been no one but her. No one before that, either, or I was too young to be sexually active. She gave me my first hard-on when we were fourteen and she showed up to gym class in a white T-shirt and no bra, her tits jiggling around during volleyball—and my dick has never gotten stiff for anyone else. She owns my cock as sure as she owns my heart.

At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and curl up. Replay that night in the field when he touched me, spoke to me so sweetly and honestly. Before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread seeing every day, as much as I crave the brutally beautiful sight of him. At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right. Should I be ashamed that my body reacted favorably to those words?

Omg 😳

would all along. “Go to hell,” I whisper. He rears back, giving me the fleeting satisfaction of his shock. “What did you say?” I gulp a sob and scream it this time. “Go to hell!” From the moment I sat down to have this conversation, I knew tonight was going to be worse than usual, but I’ve just guaranteed that tenfold. Normally I can retreat to the untouchable place inside of me as he unleashes his ire, but not tonight. I’m present for every punch and kick. Every hurled insult. And when it usually would have stopped, it doesn’t…and that’s when I start to get scared. I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Moore staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.

What I’m seeing just isn’t possible. It can’t be real. My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth ransacks my stomach, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Allie’s father is not just beating her. He’s trying to kill her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to defend her. To put a stop to the worst thing I could have ever imagined. What the fuck. What the fuck. Blistering hot rage takes over.

Turning, I approach her, my gut roiling violently. Cataloguing all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Rasping her name, I reach down to pick up her, but she flinches and scoots back, bringing her body up against the wall. “Don’t touch me, bully.” Those words rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like line drives. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this? This is what she’s been dealing with at home?

“There is a duffel bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?” Ask me to bring you a unicorn horn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.” We work in silence, Allie yanking things out of drawers and adding them to the duffel bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway. “Allie?” Conflicted aqua eyes zip to mine. “I can’t just leave, can I?” “You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay, because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill of negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?”

I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. Don’t think I can physically do it. This obsession with Allie isn’t something I can cut off. A limb would be easier to sever. But my hesitation is causing her forehead to pucker. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go…she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be. “No more bullying,” I say, finally. A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.

My feelings for him are extremely confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I’ll secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my world of unpredictability, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I gave him the green light, he would “put me on my back and do me dirty” or “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that winded, guttural tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my bedclothes to an orgasm. I’m thinking about those particularly sexual taunts when he looks over at me and I don’t quite manage to hide the conflicted lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he peruses my mouth, my breasts. I’m a certified hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted, regardless. It’s always there in the hurried rise and fall of his chest, the shifting of his throat muscles. The tenting of his jeans.

“So I won’t tell you to leave. But please, please, get yourself out of my head. One night together. Okay, Moore? So I can get on with my life knowing the fantasy was better than reality. That I built up some unrealistic idea of what we’d be like together that we can’t possibly live up to.” My throat constricts. “Get me on the road to forgetting you. Please.” Lightning flares above his head, revealing the marble planes of his face. The mixture of devastation and flickering hope in his eyes. “And what if the reality lives up to the fantasy?” “It won’t,” I say quickly, with conviction. It couldn’t possibly.

“I’ve made a study out of you, Allie James. I’ve been hanging on your every sigh, every expression and mood for years. Years. If you don’t think I’ve obsessed weeks of my life away over how you’d like to be fucked, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“I lied to you, Allie. I lied. I’ve never been with anyone like this. I’ve never wanted to touch anyone but you. Never been hard for anything but this…” I force in another inch, wincing, starting to sweat. “This sweet little Allie pussy. I wanted inside of it so bad and now I can’t get halfway in without unloading. I’ve just got so much come for you. Christ, it hurts. My balls are so fucking heavy, baby.” I search Allie’s flushed face and find her looking at me in wonder, surprise. “You’re a virgin, too?” she whispers, rain dappling her lips. “You…waited for me.”

Yess dual virgin

“You really haven’t figured it out yet? You can’t tell I’m obsessed with you?” I drop hard kisses all over her face, her hair, her neck. “You can’t tell I would murder, lie and steal to have you look at me?”

“I want you to come,” she rasps, hips shifting. “You’ve been hiding from me for two years, acting like someone else. But this…this is honest. I-I want to feel it.” “Soon. Soon.” My spine is tingling, twisting ominously at the base. “Just let me get myself under control.” “Now.” Her expression is rapt, imploring. “Fall apart.” “Allie, please.” Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she reaches down and sinks her fingernails into my bare ass, yanking me close and impaling herself on my rigid cock— And I come violently while she screams, my body in a state of shock and bliss, hips slapping against her mindlessly, mouth open on a silent shout, the pressure I’ve been carrying between my thighs for what feels like years ebbing in degrees.

staring up at the sky with a dazed curve to her lips. “Allie?” I kiss her forehead, her cheeks. “I’m… God. Are you okay?” Her nod gets my blood running again. “It finally happened,” she whispers, her voice almost camouflaged by the rain. “What did, baby?” The smile she gives me is almost shy. “I got to be part of the storm.”

darkness, I mouth those words to myself. Oh, Betty. After we… After what happened at the lake… I don’t know what to call what we did. I’m scared to call it “making love.” “Sex” sounds too surface level for something so intense. “Fucking” sounds too coarse, too impersonal, when what passed between us on the shore of the lake couldn’t have been more personal. We stormed. That’s what we did.

“You don’t have to do all of that.” “I want to.” He spears a handful of fingers into his hair and leans back against the top step, hesitating as if deciding whether or not to tell me something. “My aunt, Allie…she is the guidance counselor.” Understanding dawns slowly. The answer to a question that has been plaguing me for years. “Your aunt. That’s how you got into all of my classes?” He winces slightly. “To be fair, she didn’t know I was…stalking you. She thought it was a crush. And I was bribing her with some serious ammunition. The woman has never been able to turn down a Snickers—and I supplied them by the case.”

I’m barely coherent from the magnitude of my climax when Moore starts to rut into me with sharp upward slams of his hips—and he’s so big, it hurts. He’s right at the edge, rigid as steel, no give to his flesh whatsoever. “Hurts,” I whine. “So good. So fucking good.” He digs his fingers into my buttocks and holds me steady for the next roll of his hips, the pressure inside me mounting, splitting me in two. “Ahhhh. Shit. You drenched me, Allie. So fucking hot. I’m going to come to hard.” “You’re too big. It’s too big.” “What?” I watch him struggle for awareness, his eyes unfocused as he searches my face. “Too big…” “It hurts.” Horror wars with lust. “No. No, I’ll stop.” A shudder passes through his big frame and he pants a breath, stopping causing him visible pain. “I’ll pull out.” “No.” I tighten my legs around his hips. “Just go slow.” “Slow.” He nods vigorously, laser focused on my face, as if he’s now afraid of breaking me. “You’re sure, baby? You’re sure?” “Yes.” I kiss his mouth to reassure him and he groans, melting at my touch, slowly rolling in and out of me from below—and it still hurts, but the discomfort is manageable with his mouth on mine, when I can experience first hand how badly he needs relief, his shaft swollen and rock hard inside of me. It’s an effort to keep the easy pace, the muscles on his neck straining, perspiration breaking out on his forehead.

“Allie…” he pushes through his teeth. “There are things I want to do, things I don’t understand, some thing I know I shouldn’t do…” “Do them.” His chest flexes hard, eyes closing. And he slaps my bottom, the sound seeming to urge his hips faster, increase the urgency inside of us both. Yes, us both. It’s not the same as being struck by someone in anger. This is chemical, animal, an understanding between a male and a female. It says, I’m doing the fucking. “Again,” I choke out, gripping his shoulders for purchase. “Again.” Moore stumbles sideways a step, relieved by my acceptance, visibly turned on to the point of agony, his hips driving so hard and fast now, my back teeth clack together. “Dick tease,” he growls, turning me, impaling me to the door, shaking the wood on its hinges. “You hot, little dick tease. Wanted to cram that virgin hole so bad, you made me come in my pants in class. Lost count how many times. So hard for this good girl cunt, baby. So fucking hot for it. Every second of my life. Now. Forever. You own me, whether you want me or not.”

How many times can we have sex before it’s too much? These are things I don’t know. There are so many things I don’t know. Like why I want to fuck her in the ass so badly. Or why having my finger there made me so hot. Why I wanted to spank her, why I said such crude things. And is there something I should be doing for her afterward?